


Empty Sheets

by kingmalkin



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Enemies to Lovers, From Sex to Love, Grinding, Hockey, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, NHL All-Star Game, National Hockey League, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmalkin/pseuds/kingmalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Whatcha gonna do, <i>Little Peeks</i>? You can’t touch me! Your hits are too soft!" Toews screeched from behind his own referee.<br/>"Oh, what’s that?<i> Coo! Coo! Fucking coo!</i>" Kane bristled, flapping his elbows to further support his imitation of a pigeon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> yes i’m biased as fuck and let the avalanche win a lot sorry not sorry they’re my number one.  
> sorry for you hawks/blues fans that pkane is on the blues. it worked best for the fic.  
> mention of keguin but nothing serious. they sucked dick on new years eve but it’s touched upon once in thought.  
> i’m only assuming there’s a draft party but it works for the fic and yes jonny and pkane are in the same hotel things are magical the way they work out.  
> yes it’s a cliche ending but bear with me.  
> also i'm sorry if it seems a little rushed at the end. this is the longest fic i've ever written and i don't know how to end things properly lmao
> 
> extra kudos to the meme that i used for a small snippet of dialogue.

Hands splayed out across his chest, Patrick Kane struggled against the referee. His blood bubbled and his heart beat a million miles an hour. It felt as if he carried a thunderstorm in his chest, his stomach, his head. All he wanted to do was reach over the ref’s shoulder and sock Jonathan Toews right in the jaw; he wanted to feel his knuckles leave imprints in his fucking “adorable” face.

“Whatcha gonna do, _little Peeks?_ You can’t touch me! Your hits are too soft!” Toews screeched from behind his own referee.

“Oh, what’s that? _Coo! Coo! Fucking coo!_ ” Kane bristled, flapping his elbows to further support his imitation of a pigeon. He didn’t hear Jonathan’s response as he hopped in the penalty box to suffer through his five minute major. He rest his gloves in his lap and traced his fingertips over his bruised knuckles. He could still feel the moment his fist slammed right into Toews’ helmet. He bled from his nose and he could feel the beginning of a black eye while Toews adorned a split lip and cut cheek.

It was the second game of the season and the Chicago Blackhawks were playing against the St. Louis Blues. The hatred between the two teams was worthy of a Wednesday Night Rivalry on NBC Sports Network but it was nothing compared to the hatred shared among Hawks captain Jonathan Toews and Blues’ captain Patrick Kane. The pair despised each other beyond recognition and fought almost every game they played. Their fights were inevitable.

This night was no different. Jonathan Toews had been chirping up a storm throughout the entire game which peeved Kaner to the ends of the Earth. Toews gave him the perfect excuse when he shouldered his entire body into Kaner’s teammate, Alex Pietrangelo. Alex went headfirst into the boards and Kaner flipped his lid. He practically tackled the Hawks’ captain from behind.

Now the two sat in their respective time-outs, pouting like the big five year olds they were. Before the period continued, Patrick Sharp skated over to Toews’ side and leaned in. He knocked his gloved hand against his captain’s helmet and jabbed his stick into his skate.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Tazer. It’s Kane’s fault, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever, Sharpie. Just don’t let those fucking shitheads score,” Jonny hissed, tapping sticks with his teammate. Sharp gave a confident grunt before skating back to the face-off.

Kaner had been watching the whole thing, his body vibrating with hatred. He snorted and scooted across the penalty bench. He leaned over the official and rapped on the glass with his fist until Toews noticed. “Need some reassurance, baby? A little too insecure? _Wah wah wah_ ,” Kane motioned as if he were a crying baby before bursting into a fit of snarky laughter. Toews ignored him, brow furrowed.

Toews could hear Kane from where he sat, even over the roaring of the crowd and the slapping of puck on sticks. Kane’s voice was the loudest thing in the arena. It competed for his attention with the rushing of blood in his ears but won by a landslide; he chose to ignore it. He bit down hard on his split lip which caused it to bleed more. He didn’t care as long as Kane would shut the fuck up. _What a little shit. He thinks he’s all that and a bag of fucking chips. I can’t wait to give him a piece of my fucking mind when I’m out of this damn thing._

Despite how much he wanted to, he wasn’t going to start another fight. He couldn’t risk that and he knew Kane wouldn’t either. The two were finished for the night. They would just have to save it for the next game.

The game had been tied at one for the entirety of it but Teuvo Teravainen ended up scoring the game winning goal for the Hawks. Kane watched it in slow motion, bristling with heated frustration. But he had to remind himself that this was only the second game of eighty-two. He had eighty more under his wing and he was ready to crush every last one of his opponents, especially Jonathan Toews.

He stood from the bench, waiting to give his compliments to his goalie, and watched the celebrating Hawks. His brow furrowed and his fists clenched around the shaft of his stick. Toews caught his gaze and flashed him a shit-eating grin before wrapping himself up in the celebration.

 

* * *

 

 

The Blues’ locker room was quiet. A somber silence fell on the shoulders of the players as they stripped themselves of their gear. Coach Hitchcock had already given the team his losing speech and made comments on the good and the bad, leaving the players with busy thoughts.

Kaner was still steaming. He couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking smile Toews wore at the end of the game and how good it would feel to knock all of his teeth out. He was in mid-imagination when alternate captain TJ Oshie waddled up.

“Hey, Kaner. You okay? I mean, I know with you and Toews-”

“I’m fine, Osh. Just still a little pissed,” He hissed, shaking TJ’s hand off his shoulder.

Oshie lapsed into silence for a moment before nodding, “I hope you know that Teravainen’s goal wasn’t your fault.”

When Kane looked up at TJ to respond, he stopped. His teammate’s eyes were heavy with concern and admiration. TJ and Kane were the closest duo on the team. After all, they both had played for Team USA in the Winter Olympics and were practically best friends on the ice and off the ice. Kaner grunted and smacked a hand against TJ’s thigh, “Yeah, Teej. Thanks.”

Oshie beamed, “We’ll get ‘em next time,” He returned to his stall to finish undressing.

Patrick lingered, watching TJ for a little before looking to his hands. He studied the bruises and scrapes on his knuckles, realizing that he couldn’t even remember the fight. Not all of it, anyways.

Jonathan Toews had been a problem for Pat since his younger days. They were on opposing teams then but in the same league, which meant playing games against each other. They always fought, whether it be argumentative or physical. Toews once got Kane kicked out of a game for a misconduct.

At times like these, his pondering times, he couldn’t remember why he hated Toews. They never got along. Pat thought they were too different, that they had ideas on either side of the scale. But someone once told him that he and Toews were two sides of the same coin and that was why they couldn’t be in the same room together. They had similar visions but different ways of expressing them. Maybe his mother said that. It wouldn’t surprise him. She never understood their relationship. She constantly talked about how “sweet and charming” he looked.

Kaner snorted and rolled his eyes. Toews was far from sweet and charming. He was a prick, thought himself above others, and stuck his nose in business that didn’t concern him, especially Kaner’s. He skated as if owned the ice. But even sitting here now, he could hear his mother’s voice. _Patrick, you should give that Jonathan a chance. You two could be best friends._

He carded his hand through his damp curls and sighed. He wouldn’t give Toews a chance if they were the last two people on Earth. Not even if they were stuck on the same team.

 

* * *

 

Jonathan Toews threw his gloves into the stall of the visiting locker room in St. Louis. He twisted on his skates to face his fellow Hawks, spread his arms wide, and hollered into the warmth. His teammates echoed his cawing with their own.

“Choke on that, Patrick Kane! We came, we beat the shit out of the Blues, and we conquered!” Toews roared, thrusting a fist into the air like a sweaty, busted up Judd Nelson.

Sharpie hurled his pads at his captain who grunted and caught them, “Ah, stuff it, Tazer. It’s only the second game.”

“Only the second game? The second game against fucking Patrick Kane and his damn music notes! Sharpie, if you really feel that way, I don’t know if we can keep you on the team,” Jonny responded, tossing his teammate’s pads back with a laugh. “Alright, before we continue with any team business, I want to give out the belt,” He crossed the room to the bag in which the belt was sheltered, hoisted it into the air, and called to the room. “We fought hard tonight, boys, and without him, we wouldn’t have won. It was anybody’s game but with his goal, it became _our_ game. So-” He pivoted towards Teuvo and handed the belt to the Finn, “Teuvo, congrats.”

A series of whoops and yipping ricocheted through the room as Teuvo modestly welcomed the belt. Although he tried his best to keep the air out of his head, he couldn’t fight the huge grin that spread across his face. A couple of his teammates patted him on the back as he sat down to finish undressing, the belt sitting in a comfortable position beside his thigh.

As Toews unlaced his skates, he watched his teammates, their energetic buzz putting him right on top of Cloud 9. He felt stoned out of his mind just listening to the excited mumble of men he’d consider his brothers. Once he pulled off his skates, he sat back to marinate in the feeling.

Sharpie had brought up a good point. It was only the second game of the season, he couldn’t let their 2-0 standing get to his head. He couldn’t help it though. Seeing Kane as pissed as he was made his heart race and his knees go weak. He had to admit it, he was in love with pushing Kane’s buttons. But he agreed. He needed to chill it out a little bit. Going awol like that isn’t something a captain should do. _Lead by example, Jonny boy._

He huffed when he felt someone’s hand tousle his hair, glancing up to see the owner. Patrick Sharp stared down at him, his killer jawline glistening from the sweat and his auburn hair in strings.

“You alright, Taze?”

Jonny nodded and flashed the Hawk one of his crooked smirks. “I’m more than alright, Sharpie. I’m in fucking space,” A quick shout of accomplishment followed.

“Just making sure. You looked pretty out of it.”

Jon nodded a few times to reassure his friend. “No, yeah, I’m great. I was just thinking about the fight with Kane. Nothin’ to worry about,” He explained.

Patrick bit down on his lip and smoothed his hair back but to no avail. He patted his hand against his captain’s shoulder before retreating.

Jonny’s mind went straight back to Kane. The fight was reckless and the look that Sharpie just gave him confirmed it. He couldn’t be fighting like that with Kane every game they played. He would have to learn to keep his mouth shut and tune the other captain out. But every time he saw the hatred in his rival’s eyes, he got a little rush and maybe a little turned on. Was that weird? Hell yeah, it was weird. He shouldn’t even be questioning it.

He imagined telling Sharpie. His imaginary self would watch imaginary Sharpie’s eyes widen as he backed away from him. His imaginary self would then be stripped of his imaginary captain duties, maybe even kicked out of the imaginary NHL. He swallowed hard. Besides, it wasn’t a deeper romantic feeling. It wasn’t love. Well, it was, but it was love for pissing him off. It wasn’t anything more. And it only turned him on _a little bit_ , not completely. Jonny frowned. Why was he even having this argument with himself?

“Jonny Boy, come on! Plane’s leaving in a few hours and some of the boys want to go out for quick drinks. You haven’t even taken off your sweater,” Duncan Keith shouted from the doorway of the locker room.

Jon noticed he was the only one left in the room, still decked out in his gear, pads and all. “Alright, Duncs. I’ll be out in a few. Who’s buying?”

Duncan turned and disappeared around the corner, “You are!”

 

* * *

 

Kane found himself curled in bed with the lights turned off in his apartment. Covers engulfed him and he faced his window, the light of St. Louis diminishing a small portion of the darkness. The moon was especially bright tonight.

He clumped some of the covers into his fist and breathed in deep. His free hand spread out across the empty space beside him. It was cold, colder than the ice he skated on. He thought of Toews.

 

* * *

 

Toews sat beside Sharpie on the plane. He had claimed window seat long before they left the bar and Sharpie had agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to fight with a tipsy Jonathan Toews. His head lolled against the wall as he watched the clouds roll underneath the plane, face bathed in moonlight. Sharpie slept beside him.

He played with his fingers and counted the clouds. Twenty minutes passed and he realized he wasn’t counting anymore. He had stopped when he had reached the number eighty-eight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Halfway through the season, both teams were doing well. In the central division, Chicago ranked second and the Blues were ranked third. The Avalanche were at the top but no one saw that coming. All three teams sat comfortably with solid records above 500, a good place to leave for the All Star break.

Yes, it was that time of year. The All Star Game was approaching, scheduled for the end of January. Pittsburgh was hosting and the teams were Crosby and Ovechkin. Crosby’s alternate captains were Duchene and Oshie while Ovechkin had Parise and Weber. The players who put up high numbers in the league or among their teammates were getting put on the attending roster which included both Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews.

The rivals were ecstatic and honored to find out they had been picked for the All Star Game but this was replaced with irritation and desperation when they discovered each other had been picked. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be put on the same team. That sounded like a nightmare for Crosby or Ovechkin or anyone involved with the teams.

When the pair flew out to Pittsburgh, the first thing they did was hunt down Sidney and Ovi. They tried to persuade both All Star captains to keep them separated and on different rosters. _For the sake of the team, Sid. Think of the chaos it’d create, Ovi._ Sidney and Ovi took their words into account but couldn’t promise them anything.

“Don’t worry about it-” Crosby

“You both will probably be on different teams anyways-” Ovechkin

“It depends on who Ovi-” Crosby

“Who Sid picks.” Ovechkin.

Neither conversations helped settle their stomachs and they dove head-first into unknown waters when the Draft began.

The two sat at empty tables, far enough away from each other that they didn’t have to hear any conversations. Both players happened to face each other which meant a lot of staring. The pair continuously cast glances at each other, sometimes glares, but they were lucky enough to miss eye-contact every time. Kane’s knee bounced and Toews’ fingertips rolled on the table’s surface.

Waiting backstage for his name to be called was torture for Pat. It was even worse waiting for Toews’ name to be called as well. He didn’t care which team he drafted to as long as it wasn’t the same as Jonathan’s. He glanced over at his nemesis again and lost himself in his thoughts.

Being on the same team as Jonny would be fine, he figured, if Jonny learned to keep his mouth shut. His mouth was the most aggravating thing about the Hawks captain. Every time he opened it, everything that came out was a shitty chirp. Or at least sounded like one. Toews was so bad at chirping, sometimes Kane couldn’t tell the difference between his and a five year-old's. Kane smirked.  

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kaner?”

Kane’s gaze refocused and allowed him to notice that he had zoned out on Toews. The other man returned his stare but accompanied it with a curled lip, an expression of disgust plastered on his face. Kane sucked in a quiet breath and turned to face whoever it was that had questioned him.

“Oh, hey, Segs. Nothing pleasing to the eye, really,” Kane hissed to Tyler Seguin as the Dallas Stars’ forward occupied the seat beside him.

Tyler scoured the room before spotting Jonathan and understood immediately. He shrugged and elbowed Patrick, “Watch your tongue, young man.” Patrick scoffed but didn’t say anything. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and retreated into himself. “Aw, come on, Pat. Loosen up. The All Star Game isn’t supposed to be all tense and shit. It’s not like you’re gonna be on the same team or anything. I don’t think Crosby or Ovechkin are dumb enough to do that. Everybody in every single league knows about you and Toews,” He slid a flat palm against Patrick’s shoulders for reassurance.

Pat glanced sideways at Tyler and nursed his water. “I don’t know, Segs. They might forget all about us. They might be thinking about the Skills Competition or the actual game. And plus, they have Duchene, Parise, Weber, and TJ. TJ’s gonna convince Sid to put me on his team but what are they gonna do about Toews? ”

“Shut the fuck up. Not everything is about winning, Patrick Kane. You captains,” Tyler clicked his tongue against his cheek and shook his head. “Besides, TJ knows how much you hate Toews. He’ll put in a word for you. Dutchy might be the only one who’ll go for Jonny. Dutchy and Sid are pretty close friends, though...” He trailed off then flashed a wide grin which ushered a sigh from Patrick. His brow furrowed and he stood from his seat, “Alright, you need a drink. Don’t move.” He left.

 

* * *

 

When Jonny caught Kane staring at him, his stomach did a few flips. He felt sicker and his head was dizzy but that might just be from the alcohol. He downed a pair of beers already and was prepared to get up for his third when he felt Kane burning holes into his skin. He watched with an expression of pure disgust as Tyler Seguin joined the Blues’ captain before departing for that third beer he promised himself.

When he reached the designated beer table, he cast a careful glance over his shoulder, spotting Kane and Seguin through the crowd. His health improved the moment he saw how miserable Kane looked and he returned his attention to the table, a crooked smirk painting itself across his lips. He grabbed a cup and a beer and poured said beer into said cup.

He pivoted but stopped when he realized he was about to run beer-first into Seguin’s chest. He grunted and pulled back protectively. _Anything but my beer, man._ “Segs, what’re you doing? I thought you were with the mouse,” He jerked his chin in the general direction of Kane.

“I’m getting him something to drink. He’s a little on edge, needs it bad,” Tyler answered, reaching around Toews to snatch a cup, his shoulder brushing Jonny’s chest.

Jonny stepped aside in response. Seguin never had a problem with personal space and Jonny wondered how he acted when he drank too much. “Uh…”

Tyler glanced down at the cup in Jonathan’s loose hand. He took notice in the pink flush of his cheeks, the dull glint to his eyes, and snorted, “How many have you had, Tazer?”

Jonny stared down at the beer in his hand and shuffled his feet as if he were a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “No big numbers, about to have the third,” He mumbled.

Silence plummeted between the two, giving Jonny options to consider. Option A, he puts down his third beer, wishes Tyler good luck with the Draft, and leaves for his table. Option B, he continues this hella awkward conversation, feels horrible about it later, and drinks even more. But does Option A have to include putting down his beer? Tyler would be disappointed if it didn’t. Why the fuck does he care what Tyler thinks though? Tyler Seguin would drink more if he were in the same-

“Taze? Tazer, come on. What the fuck is with you and Kaner zoning out? Man, you guys need to chill the fuck out and let sleeping dogs lie. Things will be fine. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t listen to his chirping,” Tyler bumped a fist into Jonny’s shoulder before retreating to Kane’s table with his beer.

 

* * *

 

First overall went to Evgeni Malkin because Sidney Crosby couldn’t imagine playing without his best friend. Then Backstrom to Ovechkin (biased, of course), Landeskog to Crosby (more bias, thank you, Duchene), Nash to Ovechkin, Benn to Crosby, Tavares to Ovechkin, Seguin to Crosby. The room became less crowded, leaving Toews and Kane with awkward glances and loud sips from their cups.

And then Kane was drafted to Crosby’s team. When Crosby called him to the stage, he slipped from his chair, winked arrogantly at Toews, and sauntered out to shake hands with his new captain. Jon boiled in his seat. Kane was just happy he drafted before him.

A few more names echoed throughout the room but none of them concerned Pat. He lounged in his chair, leaning against Tyler who chatted to Jamie beside him. Despite how calm he appeared, he couldn’t stop tapping his foot. Tyler’s and Jamie’s mumbles were the only thing keeping him centered.

Then, Matt Duchene cleared his throat and Crosby tilted the microphone towards him, “With our next pick, we select, from the Chicago Blackhawks, Jonathan Toews.”

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck were you doing, Osh? I thought you were gonna put in a word for me and keep us off the same team!” Patrick slapped a pair of hands against TJ’s chest, who frowned.

He shook his head and held up his own hands in surrender, “I did what I could, Peeks. I swear. Dutchy’s smart though and he convinced Sid that it would mean better things for the team. Dutch said Tyler would keep both of you in check. That’s what Tyler said to Dutch before the draft. That’s what he promised.”

Patrick pulled away and sighed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

“Look, Pat. I did what I could and Sid overruled me. You’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with each other, alright? It’s only for the weekend,” He wrapped an arm around Pat’s shoulders and yanked him in for a hug. “Now, come on. Let’s go party it off with the others,” He pulled him towards the music of the Draft Party.

 

* * *

 

Patrick didn’t look at anything as he stumbled into his hotel, and then the elevator. He punched a button that resembled the numbers of the floor he was taking residency on and leaned into the corner of the elevator. He didn’t care where he was going. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, everything hurt. He squeezed his temples with his fingertips at the echoing _ding_ , traipsing out of the elevator and down the hallway. Looking at the carpeting only increased the pain in his head.

He dragged a shoulder along the wall, fingers feeling for numbers that felt familiar. He didn’t think anything of the open door to his room and pushed inside, aimlessly meandering for his bed. That was the main target. He just needed to sleep and pretend like today didn’t happen. But it did and he knew that sleeping wasn’t going to help but it was a start. Sleeping meant one step closer to the weekend being over.

He flattened his palms against the bedspread and tipped forward, prepared to sink into the covers, when he heard the click of a door opening. Light flooded the darkness in the room until a silhouette filled most of it. He squinted at the figure and huffed.

“What the fuck are you doing here, mouse?”

That voice was unmistakable, the lilt of a Canadian accent, and he could even hear his famous crooked grins. Patrick Kane had somehow stumbled into Jonathan Toews’ room.

“Wha-? Why do you keep your door open? Anybody could just fucking walk in here and-”

“Yeah, anybody, including you! Get the fuck out, Kane! Go back to your own fucking room!”

Pat watched Toews approach him and he realized that he wasn’t dressed. Every inch of him lacked clothes except for his waist which was wrapped in one of the hotel’s towels. His hair dripped water onto his shoulders. Before Pat could do anything, Toews placed both of his hands on him and began to usher him out of the room.

“No, wait a fucking minute! I want to have a few words with you, pigeon!” Patrick fought against his rival’s strength albeit Toews wasn’t trying hard.

Jon dropped his hands from Pat’s shoulders and threw them into the air. “We’re gonna have a conversation right now? Please, enlighten me, Kane. What is on your mind? I’m just _dying_ to know!” He screeched

A heated breath slipped between Patrick’s teeth and he pushed his hands against Jon’s chest, “What the fuck is your problem with me? Do you think you’re better than me or something? You’re always chirping up a fucking storm around me. Why do you do it? It’s fucking bullshit!”

Toews scoffed, “Like you’re any better, Peeks. You’re like one of those little Chihuahuas.They’re small and they think they have the biggest bite in the world but they’re just tiny little shits!”

Kane’s eyebrows dipped and he felt himself bristle. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Toews. You need to learn how to keep your mouth closed!”

“Who’s gonna teach me, Kane? Are you? How are you gonna teach me to keep my mouth closed?”

Patrick stopped then, taking a moment to look at Toews, really look at him. He was so pissed that he couldn't think of anything else and he had to take a moment, so he watched the droplets of water on his chest glint from the light of the bathroom. He noticed the way his hair curled when it was wet. He saw the way his veins bulged in his neck, the way his shoulders tensed, the way they heaved when he was angry. Kane bit down on his lip and held his breath. What was he doing? Maybe he had a little bit more alcohol than he thought.

Jonny stopped too. He watched Kane’s eyes scour his body and it was then that he remembered he wasn’t wearing anything, save for a towel. He splayed one of his hands against his stomach subconsciously before letting himself take a few peeks at Kane. He liked the way his eyes drooped and the way his mouth fell open lazily. He liked the way he was looking at him. He liked the way his hair curled at the base of his neck and around his ears and he liked the way his suit squeezed his body. He kept glancing back at his lips.

“So, Peeks. You gonna teach me how to keep my mouth closed?”

Patrick eyed Jon’s mouth before stretching up to the tips of his toes and leaning in. He slipped a hand around his rival’s neck, fingers tangling in the short strands of his damp hair. His other hand played with Jonny’s wrist, tapping lightly on his veins. Jon tilted forward, too, and he noticed the beating of his heart increase. He felt like he was on Cloud 9 again, maybe even a little higher.

Pat’s lips pressed against Jon’s and he sighed into him, that hand at his wrist now splayed against his upper chest. Jon’s arm looped itself around Kane’s waist, pulling him closer, which caused a grunt to echo from his throat. The tip of Kane’s tongue ghosted across the surface of Jon’s teeth, underneath his upper lip, and against the top of his tongue. This was when Jon ruptured the kiss, shying away from the Blues’ captain.

“I don’t think we should be doing this, Peeks. Someone could catch us. And you’re a little tipsy. I can taste it.”

A warm blush flooded Patrick’s cheeks at Toews’ last statement and he popped a finger in his mouth. “Can you really?” As if tasting his finger would do anything. His finger fell out of his mouth and he scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “I didn’t drink that much, Twinkle Toes. Just one night, please. I’m horny as fuck and I want to suck your dick,” He flicked his tongue against Jon’s bottom lip and chin.

Jonny fought the urge to touch his chin, feel the trail left from Kane’s tongue. He huffed, “I don’t know, Kane. It’s a little-”

Kane’s hand cupped at the slightly erect bulge underneath his towel. A small gasp left his lungs.

“It’ll be our little secret.”

Jonny hesitated, his arm still hooked around Pat’s waist. He wasn’t 100% sure he wanted this. Kane tasted a little more drunk than he promised but that didn’t mean anything. He could drink four beers and still be sober enough to perform daily activities for all Jonny knew. There were too many backlashes that could result from this interaction and Toews didn’t know if he wanted to deal with any of them. Kaner could spill everything to TJ (he would if it was someone else and not Jonny) and TJ would tell everyone, someone could walk in and ruin everything, or worse. Jonny could get attached.

One night stands were difficult for Jon. He preferred emotional connections with sexual partners. It made things more intimate, passionate, hot and Jonny liked it like that. Standing here now, after that fucking amazing kiss, he assumed all of that would be there between them and he was afraid. He didn’t want to get attached to Patrick. He didn’t want that painful twang in his heart or the sickening churn of his stomach every time he heard Kane’s name. Becoming attached to Kane was one of his worst nightmares.

But here he stood, with a tipsy Patrick Kane and that fucking twang in his heart, that damn twisting stomach. He was scared and he was excited and, worst of all, he was hard. He groaned to himself. _Fuck it. What’s one night? We’ll go back to hating each other the moment we touch the ice._

Jonny rolled his hips in Kane’s hand and found his mouth with his own. Their kiss didn’t last long before he tickled his lips down Kane’s throat, tracing lines across his collarbone and under his jawline. He almost choked when he heard a soft whimper from his rival.

“Toews, fuck all this kissy foreplay shit. Just pull your fucking pants down so I can put your cock in my mouth,” Kane hissed, his fingers squeezing Jon’s hard-on.

A soft shudder danced down Jon’s spine. Kane’s mouth was so dirty and Jonny loved it too much.

The Hawks’ captain didn’t argue and fell back onto the bed, his towel pooling at his feet. Kane's lips planted small kisses down the center of Jonny's chest, his stomach, along the lines of hips, into the crook of his V-lines before finding his erection and engulfing the entire length. It was sloppy and wet but the fact that Jonny had the Blues’ captain on his knees, sucking his dick made all the difference. He anchored his fingers into his golden curls and supported his upper body with his other hand, leaning it into the bed. He threw his head back and released a distorted moan, eyelids fluttering. Kaner’s tongue was up and down his shaft, playing with his head, and lapping at his balls. Patrick spread kisses along the inside of his thighs. Jonny hadn’t been touched like this in ages and everything felt so good.

Vice-versa. Kaner hadn’t sucked dick in a while. Not since he and Tyler got shit-faced on New Year’s Eve. Neither man had a midnight kiss, Tyler didn’t want to deal with a girl in the morning, and Kaner’s mouth was begging for it. It was a one time deal. They don’t talk about it.

“Damn, Kaner. Do you suck dick for a living?” Tazer’s grip around his hair tightened when Kane’s tongue trailed up the underside of his cock. His voice shook and Kane smirked.

Toews bucked his hips every so often into his mouth, the tip of his cock grazing the back of his throat. Kane took it all. He held his cock between his lips before releasing it with an obscene pop. He wiped his spit off the back of his hand, lazy eyes staring up at Jon.

Tazer chuckled breathlessly and brushed two fingers underneath Kane’s chin. “Sit on my lap. I want to fuck you,” He urged.

“Undress me first, impatient fucker,” Kane snarled and stood, retrieving his wallet from his pocket. He pulled a condom from the recesses and tossed the wallet aside.

As Pat ripped open the condom, Jonny’s fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt. He tugged his suit-jacket off, throwing it to the side, and pushed his shirt back to reveal his chiselled stomach. Jonny drew a palm across his torso before gingerly pressing his lips to the space just above his waist. All the while, he unbuckled his belt and yanked his pants from his hips, hands stopping to squeeze at his thighs.

He trailed his lips from his happy trail to the hard-on in his boxer-briefs, kissing the head then down the shaft. When he looked back up at Kane, he burned with desire and pleasure for Kane’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted and turned up in a sleepy smile. His shoulders tensed from Toews’ touch.

“Haven’t been touched like this in awhile, Kaner?” Toews teased.

Kane shoved his head and pushed him back, “Just fuck me already.”

Toews chortled and allowed his partner to roll the condom down his cock, his fingers playing with his curls as he did. Kane then shimmied out of his boxer briefs and climbed onto Jonny’s lap. He leaned into Jon, his cock compressed between their stomachs so that Jon could position himself.

“Ready, Peeks?”   
“Are _you_ ready, Twinkle Toes?”

Jonny took that as a yes.

He lowered Kane’s ass onto his cock slowly, hands holding his dick in place while Kaner’s spread his cheeks. As Jon’s length penetrated him, a mangled, breathy whimper slipped from his lungs and his head fell forward. Jonny almost came right there.

The curve of Kane’s ass sat comfortably on Toews’ lap, Jonny’s hands cupping his hips to hold him in place. Kane’s own hands pressed themselves against Jon’s chest, fingers hooked. A sigh seeped from Kane’s mouth, “Take it easy on me, Twinkle. I haven’t had a dick up my ass in a long time.”

Jonny snorted, “Your manners are impeccable.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Kaner grunted.

Jonny’s hips bucked up into Kane’s ass while his lips planted a garden of kisses along his chest. With every thrust, a disfigured moan dribbled from Kane’s lips, sending the butterflies in Jonny’s stomach into a wild frenzy. Soon, Kane began to grind his ass on his cock, his own erection rubbing up and down against Jonny’s stomach. Toews took a hand away from one of Kane’s hips to grip at his length, allowing Kane to pump himself into his hand. His thumb kneaded his head in rhythmic circles. Kane’s lips found the top of Jonny’s head, his hair tickling his nose. He could smell the hotel’s shampoo.

“Oh, god, Tazer,” Kane moaned, eyes rolling back into his head.

Jonny laughed, his hand pulling away from his hip to tug at one of Kane’s curls. Kane ground down hard onto Jonny’s lap, causing a strangled groan to leave Jonny’s mouth. “Kaner, you’re so tight,” He breathed.

Pat bent over and drew his tongue up Jonny’s throat to the edge of his chin. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” He whispered, eyes half-lidded, fingers hooking into Jonny’s shoulders.

Pat lifted himself off of Jonny’s lap with a sigh before landing on his knees and hands, exposing his ass for his cock. Toews twisted around so that he could place kisses on the curve of his ass before straightening out. He angled his cock into position and pressed inside of Kane, his hands sliding up his torso. His lips found the spot between his shoulder blades and he began to thrust.

The closer and closer Toews came to climax meant harder and faster and deeper pumps. The bones of his pelvis would knock against Kane’s ass and with every hump, Kane would wail in pleasure. At one point, Jonny had to fit a hand over his mouth to muffle them, urging his partner to squeeze a pillow if it made things easier to keep quiet.

His mouth at the back of his ear, Jonny whispered, “You gotta be quiet, Peeks. Someone will hear us.”

Kane whined and continued to jerk himself off, matching the movement of Toews’ hips with his hand.

As Jon humped, Pat’s stomach clenched, heat pooling at the pit. His fingers grappled at the sheets and Jonny’s hand muffled another loud moan. This was so fucking crazy. An hour ago, Kaner boiled at the mere thought of Jonathan Toews but here he was with his rival’s cock up his ass. He couldn’t even think about what would happen in the morning, every time he did, he got dizzy and his eyes would swim. But he knew this feeling. It nestled inside his heart and between his ribs, making it hard to breathe. He had only felt this once and that was back when he was 15. When he was 15, he fell in love with a boy on his team, a straight boy. It didn’t end well.

Kaner felt as if his lungs were closing. He was starting to panic but he couldn’t dwell on it. He didn’t have time. He could feel himself inching closer and closer to his peek.

“Kaner, I’m gonna come.” _Perfect timing._

Hitting climax at the same time was something Kaner had never done with another partner and it was fucking romantic. His come striped the sheets beneath him and he felt Jonny’s cock pulse inside his ass. He shuddered when the Hawk pulled himself out, feeling the weight of the bed shift as he threw the condom away.

“Ah, shit, Kaner. We should have put down a towel,” Toews mumbled, coming to stand beside a very shaken up Patrick Kane. Jonny noticed his state of shock and he laughed, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. “You okay, mouse? Was I really that good?”

Without warning, Kaner straightened up and crushed his lips to Toews’. The kiss was passionate and warm and Kaner’s heart fluttered in his chest. He broke the kiss but kept his forehead pressed against Jonny’s. “I’ll clean it up,” He purred.

Patrick left Jonathan standing where he was as he clumped the pillows and comforter together, flung them aside, and stripped the bed of its sheets. He crumpled it into a ball, placed it at the foot of the door, and snooped inside the hotel room’s closet. He was pleased to find another set of sheets. Not a lot of hotels did that.

As Pat remade the bed, Jonny watched and thought. _Shit._ He had just fucked Patrick Kane. He had just fucked Patrick Timothy Kane right up the ass. He had just come in Patrick Timothy Kane’s ass and now said Patrick Timothy Kane was making the fucking bed. What the fuck was going on?

He hoped what he was feeling was a side effect of the sex, that warm, giddy, affectionate feeling. But something deep inside him told him that it wasn’t and it was here to stay like some type of parasite. _The Love Bug. Oh god._ And then the fear hit. He feared that once he and Patrick went their separate ways, he’d still feel like this. He feared that he wouldn’t stop thinking about him. He feared that this feeling was shared. But what he feared most all was the weekend coming to an end. Some part of him didn’t want it to. Some part of him wanted to lay in bed as the big spoon, the curve of Kaner’s body fit snugly against his as the little spoon. _God dammit._

“Alright, everything’s rea-” An audible yawn interrupted Kaner and Jonny felt himself fall a little harder. He loved the way fatigue danced in his eyes and the way he yawned like a kitten. Yes, Patrick Kane yawned like a fucking kitten.

To Hell with it. Jonny would enjoy this while he could. He’d figure everything out in the morning. He hooked his arms around Pat’s torso and pulled him into bed, hugging him close to his chest. Kaner looked stunned at first before he sank into him, his hot breath billowing across his flushed skin. Jonny clung to Kaner while he traced circles on Jonny’s pecs. He gazed down at the top of Patricks’ head, sighing blissfully. He loved how out of place his golden curls were. _Damn._ He couldn’t even remember why he hated it before. The resemblance of a mullet was more adorable than it was annoying. _I am in deep shit._

“Night, Twinkle Toes,” Kaner murmured into his ribs.

Jonny sighed and kissed the top of his head, mouth lingering for a moment, “Good night, Peeks.”

 

* * *

 

When Jonny woke up, he had a short-lived panic. The space beside him was empty save for rumpled sheets and he thought Kane had left. Fuck. He was actually worried about Kaner leaving. Of fucking course he was worried. He wasn’t some one-night-stand trash that Kaner had the right to throw around. Jonathan Toews was much more than that.

But everything was okay. Patrick stood beside the window, his hand supporting a mug of coffee, hips adorned in the boxer-briefs he wore last night. Toews smiled at how well they fit him.

He sucked in a deep breath and stretched his entire body, a sleepy groan trickling from his throat. “Good morning, Kaner,” Jonny rumbled.

“Morning,” Patrick huffed.

Jonny rolled out of bed, slipped on a pair of pajama pants and ducked into the bathroom to do a little freshening up. He leaned against the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. Patrick Kane was still in his room, walking around in his underwear like he owned the place. He wondered if Kane did that at his own home, his ass hugged by tight underwe- _Stop._ Jonny couldn’t be thinking like this. It was too risky, too dangerous.

“Oh, God…” Toews was in one huge mess. He splashed some water on his face before walking back into the room. He found Kane sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the window. Jonny admired the muscles tensing in his back.

“Alright, Peeks. You got-”

“Jonny.”

Jon stopped. That was the first time Pat had ever used his first name, let alone a shortened version of it. He clasped his hands together out of anxiety and made a sound with his mouth, encouraging Kaner to go on. He was scared.

“What are we going to do?”

Jonny shook his head, brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Peeks?” He questioned, closing the distance between him and the bed.

“I don’t know about you, but last night...last night, I felt something,” Kane twisted around, climbed onto his knees, and placed a hand right over his chest, right over his heart. “I felt something right here,” He placed a hand on his stomach, “and right here. And it’s something I haven’t felt in years and it’s not something I can ignore.”

Jonny swallowed hard. He knew exactly what Pat was talking about. He nodded and subconsciously touched his chest too. Pat’s nervous laughter broke the silence.

“You felt it too?”

“Fuck,” Jonny hissed and he turned away, a hand pressed to his head. “Fuck, I felt it, Kane. I felt all of it. The dips and the heart beats and all that bullshit.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Fuck if I know!” Jonny screeched.

Kane flinched and Jon’s heart sank. Regret swelled inside of his stomach and he stepped forward. “Wait, Peeks. I didn’t mean to yell,” He urged.

Patrick stood up from the bed and pulled on his pants, his shirt. He yanked his suit jacket from the floor, blew past Jonny, and out of the room. The slamming of the door echoed in Jon’s chest.

A few hours before the Skills Competition, Pat stood in the players’ lounge of the Consol Energy Center, arms crossed over his chest and his resting bitch face at 100%. TJ accompanied him, wondering when was the right moment to interrogate. Something had happened between last night and this morning that had turned Kaner into a tornado.

“Uh...Kaner? What’s up?” TJ tiptoed into conversation, carefully glancing over at his best friend.

Patrick didn’t look at TJ when he responded, “Just a bad morning. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Silence.

And then he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Teej. I shouldn’t be in a bad mood,” He shook his head. Kaner admitted defeat and relaxed. He wanted to confide in TJ but he couldn’t. Despite how pissed he was at Jonny, he couldn’t share their secret. But something about his sentence spoke truth to Kaner. He really shouldn’t be feeling this bitter. Jonny was just as stressed as he was about their situation and yelling was bound to happen.

Kaner had expected something gentle. He expected the Jonny that kisses with his entire soul and cradles you as if you were a baby bird. Instead, his rival had returned, temper flaring and patience snapping. Kaner was caught off guard, was all. He assumed things would be different but he jumped to conclusions too fast.

Pat should have given Jonny the benefit of the doubt. Both their emotions were running high from the night before, left over passion prickling between the two. He shouldn’t have left that fast without giving Jonny time to cool down. And besides, he should have waited to spring that question on him. It was too soon. They had both just woken up and it was way too fucking early to think about the complicated mess they were in.

“Do you wanna talk about it at all?”

Pat stared at Oshie and lowered his arms from his chest, “No, Osh. It’s okay. I think I just figured everything out.”

TJ parted his lips to speak but could barely fit a word in before Matt Duchene intervened.

“Hey, boys. Pat, I’m sure TJ told you but we want you on the Breakaway challenge and the relay,” He informed the Blues’ captain.

“He didn’t, but thanks, Dutchy.”

“Oh, and hey. I’m sorry about sticking you with Toews. I know how much you two hate each other. It’s my fault. I haven’t played on the same team with Tazer in a while,” Duchene mumbled. Kane could tell he was reminiscing about Team Canada winning Gold in 2014.

He patted a hand against Duchene’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Dutch. Everything will be fine. I’ll behave. I just hope he will.” He snorted as if he didn’t give a shit about what Toews did.

Duchene cast a wary glance between Kane and Oshie before nodding his approval and retreating to Landeskog’s side. He hovered close to the Swede and Kane wondered briefly if there was something going on between the two. _No. Probably just close friends. They’re on the same team, of course they’re fucking close._ All of this Toews stuff was getting to his head.

“Speak of the Devil,” TJ mumbled and cast auburn eyes over at the door to the players’ lounge.

Jonathan Toews pushed open the door and sauntered in, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders lax. He was alone, which is exactly how Kaner wanted him to be. The suit he wore hugged his frame tight, slipping over his curves elegantly, squeezing at his thighs. Kane loved those thighs. He loved kissing them and touching them and putting his head between them.

Pat had to figure out a way to get him alone without anyone getting suspicious. Two rivals talking it out and acting friendly? A little unusual since the last time they saw each other, they were trying to punch each others’ teeth out. Now all Kane wanted to do was stick his tongue between them.

TJ began to ramble about last night, his voice a distant drone in Kane’s ear. He figured if he stared at Toews long enough, the other player would notice him. Then, he’d signal for him to leave for the bathroom, to which Kane would follow a few minutes later. This plan was foolproof.

So, when he caught Jonny’s gaze and signaled him, he wasn’t expecting the handsome face of Tyler Seguin to obstruct his path. He glared up at the Stars’ forward, the fists in his pockets clenching.

“That’s shit, isn’t it? Oh, wait-” Segs paused and whipped out an invisible microphone, angling it towards Pat’s mouth. TJ giggled beside the two as he further questioned him, “What’s it like to be playing on the same team as your bitter rival, Jonathan Toews?”

Pat watched Jonny sneak out of the room towards the bathroom. Hopefully. He cleared his throat and sniffed, displaying the most arrogant expression he could muster. “As long as he keeps his ugly mug out of my way, I’m fucking peachy keen,” He grumbled.

Tyler laughed and clapped the Blues’ captain on the back, shifting to stand beside him. “It is shit, though, Kaner. I told Dutchy I would keep you kiddies in line. Teej is gonna help me, right? Alternate captain is good for something,” He purred, teasing Oshie with a finger in his stomach.

Pat wasn’t listening. He couldn’t care less about anything that came out of Tyler Seguin’s mouth, at the moment. All he cared about was chasing Jonny down to apologize for storming out. “Alright, Segs. Thanks for the interview but I gotta take a piss,” He explained, shrugging his broad shoulders and ducking out of the room.

He hurried down a hallway that lead towards the bathroom but barely made it ten feet when someone yanked him into an equipment closet. Darkness floated out in front of him but he couldn’t mistake the cologne he smelled.

“Kaner, I-”

Pat cut him off by brushing his fingers over his lips. He layered his own mouth over Jonny’s gently, hands resting on his hips.

“Jonny,” He breathed, “I’m sorry for storming out like that. I didn’t give you a chance to finish. I shouldn’t have even popped that question that soon…”

“Kaner, I’m sorry for snapping. I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have.”

They spoke at the same time, words tumbling over words, voices hushed so that no one walking by would hear them. Patrick twined his fingers with Jonny and they pressed their foreheads together. It felt strange to both of them; it felt weird to go from unadulterated hatred to all of this fluffy PDA shit.

They started to chuckle. Anxiety and fear and affection bubbled between the pair and they both figured laughing was the best way to cope with it. They were nervous and afraid of what the future would hold. They were nervous about leaving each other, nervous about going back home, nervous about people finding out. But they liked each other. Pat wanted to kiss every part of Jonny and Jonny wanted to tangle his fingers in Pat’s hair like last night.

“What _are_ we gonna do, Peeks?” Jon whispered, his laughter dissipating.

Kaner shrugged and tossed his head from shoulder to shoulder, “I don’t know, Twinkle Toes. But we’ll figure it out. We’ll cross one bridge at a time.”

 

* * *

 

Team Crosby dominated Team Ovechkin with an ending score of 16-10 in the All Star Game and scraped by in the skills competition with 10-9. Pat and Jonny stayed clear of each other during public outings with other players but always found time at the end of the day. Pat ended up spending a lot more time in Jon’s room than his own.

Before the pair left for their flights back home, an argument had sprouted about taking the same car. Patrick begged to leave together but Jon worried they would be seen to which Patrick had scoffed. _Who the fuck cares? Headlines would read: BITTER RIVALS MAKE UP DURING ALL STAR GAME. No big deal._

But it was a big deal. Jonny assumed the media would jump to conclusions. Conclusions that would be incredibly and unsettlingly accurate. He couldn’t risk anything and Kaner should know better. They had to take things slow if this was going to work out the way they wanted to. He knew it would be hard for the Blue. Pat was comfortable with showing off, spin-o-rama’s, backhanders, fancy skating, anything that put him in the spotlight. That kind of brash behavior was dangerous to this relationship. He’d have to be patient.

Pat whined and complained as Jonny packed, though. He wanted to spend as much time with the other captain before splitting up. Who knows when they would be able to see each other again? Somewhere deep inside Kane surfaced a pain he was all too familiar with. He didn’t want to go back to an empty bed, an empty home.

When Jonny looked back at Pat, he could see the desperation in his eyes. The puppy-dog droop only added to the effect. He rushed to his side, laying both hands on his cheeks and rubbing his thumbs across his skin. “Aw, Kaner. We’ll be together again before you know it. It’s just easier this way, okay?” He kissed him.

Kaner sighed and melted into him, “Alright, fine.”

Jonny brushed an out-of-place curl back behind his ear. “Don’t get so worked up about taking the same car,” He chuckled. “Is this how you get during games?”

“You know how I get during games.”

They didn’t take the same car but they held hands until they got out of the hotel’s elevator.

Jonny gave Kaner his number before they left Jon’s room and the first thing Kane did when he stepped in the door was call it. As it rang, he stripped himself of his clothing and crawled underneath the cool sheets of his bed. He stared at the empty, untouched space beside him.

“It’s fucking 2 am, Kaner. What do you want?”

Jonny’s tone was bitter and sharp but it was music to Kane’s ears. He glanced over at the digital clock on his bedside table. He didn’t realize how late it was. “I know. I just...it’s empty,” He breathed.

“Buy a fucking dog,” Jonny grumbled. His fatigue was evident in the raspiness of his voice.

Kaner winced and gave up. He let silence crackle between the line. He heard Toews’ sigh on the other end.

“I’m sorry, Kaner. I didn’t mean to sound short with you. I’m just tired.”

“That’s okay. Good night, Jonny.”

“Good night, Peeks.”

The line went dead and Pat masturbated under the covers.

 

* * *

 

Weeks had passed since the All Star Game and the Hawks were climbing the standings. They were neck and neck with the Avalanche while the Blues trailed by a few points. Kaner and Jonny had been in constant contact, texting, calling, skyping, whenever they could.

Sex was an often occurrence. The pair would skype and jerk off to each other’s faces on their screen, all the while murmuring dirty things. Kane imagined Jonny’s hands around his cock and vice-versa for Jonny. It wasn’t ideal for Kaner, he still had an empty bed, but it was the best he could get.   

The more the two talked, the harder it became to stay away from each other. Jonny would find himself walking alone in the United Center and be hit with that damn pang in his heart. Kaner would be on the ice and everything Hitchcock said to him would flow in one ear and out the other because he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about Jonny. Kane felt confident knowing that if they were on the same team, they’d be inseparable but he wasn’t sure if he liked knowing that.

Kaner sat in his stall before practice started when he realized that the Blues played the Hawks the next day. He stopped himself from smiling but he felt the blush on his face deepen. Playing the Hawks meant seeing Jonny. Seeing Jonny meant a night with a full bed.

“What’s got you all red, Kaner?” TJ jabbed him in the shoulder with a gloved hand.

Patrick wiped his fingers across his cheeks as if it would get rid of the blush. “Nothing. Just thinking about the game tomorrow. Can’t wait to wipe the ice with Toews’ face,” He snorted, finishing lacing up his skates and standing. Despite the added height of his skates, he still came below eye-level with TJ.

“Keep your gloves on, Kaner. Toews has enough broken teeth from you,” TJ scoffed, nuzzling his helmetless head with his hand.

Jonny felt just as excited about playing the Blues as Kaner did about the Hawks. He couldn’t wait to see his mullet-wearing rival. Although, they weren’t rivals anymore, were they? Eh, whatever. Jonny couldn’t wait to put his cock in his ass, rival or not.

The minute he stepped off the plane, he called Kaner. He fell behind the group and kept his voice low, reassuring the boys that he would catch up to them in a minute. His heart almost leaped out of his chest while the phone rang.

“Jonny, are you here?”

“Just got off the plane, Peeks. Fuck, I can’t wait to see you,” Jonny rumbled, his step bouncing a little.

“I can pick you up. Or I can send a cab,” Kaner sounded anxious, hyped although he whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering only that Jonny was doing it too and it felt weird if he didn’t.

“Send a cab.”

Kaner didn’t argue, bade him goodbye, and hung up.

When Jonny shimmied in between Duncan and Andrew Shaw, the two gazed at him with speculation, suspicion, eyebrows raised.

“What was that about, Tazer?” Duncan interrogated, elbowing him in the ribs. “Got someone waiting for you in St. Louis?”

Shawzy chuckled, “You think it’s a girl, Duncs? Is Jonny gonna get some ass tonight?” He motioned with his hands as if he were holding the hips of some girl and smacking her ass. A few of the other Hawks’ noticed and cheered him on. Their voices echoed across the tarmac.

Jonny felt himself blush and he thanked God that it was too dark for either of his teammates to see. “No, Shawzy. Just a friend. We’re catching up.”

“At one in the morning? Must be a really close friend, if you know what I mean, Duncs,” Shaw winked and leaned around Tazer, nudging Duncan with a fist.

Jonny huffed and danced ahead, holding out his hands in mock surrender, “Whatever, boys. I’ll see you guys at practice tomorrow and I hope you go to bed knowing that I’m getting laid tonight and you’re not.”

* * *

 

Jonny barely made it into Kane’s apartment before they were all over each other. Kane engulfed the other captain with his arms, his nose burrowing into his chest to breathe him in. He smelled of freshly washed sheets and the sun on a summer day. His fingers gathered clumps of his t-shirt on the back. Jonny enveloped him in return, his arms swarming around his shoulders, hands cradling the back of Kane’s head. His lips found his forehead.

“Damn, do you smell good,” Pat spoke, muffled by Tazer’s shirt.

“Missed you too, Peeks.”   
Pat wiggled out of Jonny’s grip and twined his fingers with his. He started leading him to his bedroom, a sly expression on his face highlighted by the moon. “Come on and suck my dick,” He grunted.

“I wish you would be more romantic,” Jonny teased.

Kaner pursed his lips before scoffing, “Come on and suck my dick in the rain.”

Jonny snorted and allowed Kaner to lead him into his room, his body tingling with anticipation. It had been way too long since he had any real sex. Skyping was all fine and dandy but he loved the real deal. As Pat stumbled backwards past the door, Jon’s free hand reached forward to unbutton his pants. Every now and then, he would squeeze the bulge between his legs which ushered a gasp from Pat’s mouth.

Jon shoved Kaner back onto his ass on the bed, bending down to his knees and tugging his pants off of his waist. He spread his legs to fit his shoulders between them and laid his lips on top of his almost full erection. He puffed hot breaths against the fabric of his underwear as he stretched to pull them down.

The minute Jonny’s mouth moved from cotton to skin, Kaner whined. His hand cradled the back of his head and he thrust his hips against his face. Pat tossed his head back. He could feel his heart burning in his chest and his stomach churning like their first night. It had been so long ago with countless nights of phone sex but that passion was still there. Kane felt like it had never felt. Every time Jonny touched his flesh, his fingers left imprints. Every time Jonny touched him, he felt like he was branded to him. He was Jonny’s and no one else’s.

Jon’s lips played with the head of Kane’s cock while he tongued the slit. He held his shaft between two fingers and slowly drew them up and down, causing Kaner to whimper for the second time. And Kaner thought he was good at giving head. Jonny smirked and grazed his open mouth down to his balls, heated breath billowing against his thighs.

Jon then wrapped his mouth around his cock, his tip just out of reach of the back of his throat. He pumped his length with his lips, head bobbing in a rhythmic fashion. As he took all of Kaner, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about this whines.

He loved how audible Patrick was, on and off the ice. He loved making him moan with every touch. He loved having someone to even touch. The Hawks’ captain would make this worthwhile. After all, he only had two nights with him and then weeks without. Just the thought of leaving Kaner again forced his heart to clench in pain.

He dragged his tongue along his cock before planting kisses along his thighs. Kaner’s hand never left the back of his head.

“Jonny,” He whined.

“What, Kaner?” Jon purred between kisses.

“Fuck me good and hard. I want to be able to feel this night when you’re gone,” He breathed. Kaner squeezed his eyes shut, though. A small pang of dread hit him in the chest. That empty bed was a fucking nightmare.

Jonny didn’t say anything as he lifted himself to his feet, unbuttoning and kicking his pants off along the way. He leaned into Kaner so that he pinned him down. He climbed on Patrick’s lap and straddled his waist with his thighs, hands on either side of him. He laid his chest on top of Kane’s and mouthed at his neck, his collarbone, his jawline. One of Kaner’s hands gripped the shaft of Jonny’s cock and thumbed at the head.

Toews pumped his cock into Kane’s hand, his hips grinding on top of Kane’s lap. He compressed his lips to the other captain’s and fingered his curls. His tongue slipped past Kane’s teeth. But Kane withdrew before he can do it again.

“Come on, Tazer. Don’t mess with me. Fuck me now,” He hissed.

Jonny rolled his eyes but lifted his torso from Kane’s. He didn’t move from his lap, though. Instead, he stared down at him, adoring the way the moonlight washed across his face. Pat’s eyes were a shocking blue ocean of lust that Jonny wanted to drown in. No, not just wanted but _needed._ Jonny needed Kaner and, in this moment, he wanted the entire world to know. He wanted to scream out Pat’s window to the city below until his throat was too sore to continue.

“Quit gawking at me, Twinkle Toes, and put your dick in my ass,” Kane giggled, coyly wiping a hand against his face.

“Patience is a virtue, Peeks,” He kissed the bridge of his nose and adjusted himself, hoisting Pat’s hips so that he could spread his legs on either side of his own. As disgusting as it is, he shot a wad of spit into open palms, using it as mock lube for his cock. He popped a pair of fingers into his mouth and then drew them against Kane’s hole for a little extra. Jonny then positioned himself, his tip teasing his ass. His hands sunk into the sheets, wrists brushing Kane’s ribs.

“Go, Jonny,” Pat ordered, propping his head up. He wanted to watch Jonny’s face.

Toews rolled his hips towards Kane, his cock slipping inside of him, stretching him. He relaxed with an exhale, tongue peeking past his lips, and seated himself in Pat. He didn’t use enough spit and should have gone for the lube that Pat had laying around. Pat was a lot tighter than he remembered.

Jonny ground his hips in slow without pulling back, his balls pillowing against the curve of his ass. His back arched as he leaned his forehead against Kaner’s. He fucked him hard, slow, pushing in and never pulling out. He bended his body as far as it can and mouthed at Kane’s chest, his tongue tracing lines.

Kaner’s whimpers and whines were the things that twisted his stomach into knots. They were the sounds that caused heat to puddle in the pit of his stomach and his hips and his cock. They brought him closer to climax. With each buck of his pelvis, his happy trail rubbed the crests of Kane’s knuckles as he jerks himself off underneath.

“Oh, fuck, Jonny,” Kaner moaned, his stomach lifting into Jonny’s body. Toews fucked him harder but sporadically. He could feel everything inside of him contract.

“I’m gonna-”

“Don’t pull out.”

Jonny curled once into Kane before releasing himself, his orgasm shuddering through his entire being. A strangled gasp echoed from his throat and he fell into Kane, breathing heat into his ribs.

And then Kaner came too. His come slathered itself onto his hand, his stomach, and Jonny’s stomach. Toews withdrew from his ass, his come dripping from Kane’s hole.

“Should I clean you up?” Jon whispered.

Patrick shook his head and collected Jon into him, wrapping his arms around his frame and hugging him close. He didn’t say anything as he buried into him, legs tangling with legs. Jonny threaded his fingers through Pat’s hair.

Pat squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, his bed wasn’t empty. He started to laugh which caused concern to sprout in Jonny’s eyes.

“Whatcha laughing about, Peeks?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy. It’s giddiness.”

 

* * *

 

Patrick knew Jonny couldn’t stay long enough to have breakfast but he made him a cup of coffee anyway. Leaning against the counter in his kitchen, dressed in nothing but a pair of Blues’ pajama pants (going commando), he handed the mug to the Hawks’ captain.

Jonny lingered across the island, one hand splayed across the marble, thumb hooked underneath the island’s edge. “You have a horrible taste in fashion,” He mumbled, glancing down at the pajamas.

“Do you want me to take them off?” He thumbed at the waistband, and winked.

“Stuff it,” Jonny huffed and downed the rest of the coffee. “Give me a kiss,” He ordered, beckoning Kaner to his side.

Pat walked him to the door and they lingered, sharing a couple of quick kisses. He  smacked Jonny’s ass on the way out.

 

* * *

 

Patrick sat on the bench later that day, one of his gloved hands clenched tight around the shaft of his stick. He leaned his wrists against the edge of the boards and scooted forward, blues eyes scrutinizing the ice and his players. He watched the game intently, yes, but always found himself looking back at Jonathan. Sharpie and Duncs had to get his attention a couple times, already. He needed to chill the fuck out.

The Hockey Gods were kind to the pair by putting them on the same shifts during the game, which gave them more time to recklessly flirt. Kaner pushed himself over the boards and to the face-off in the Blues’ zone, taking his position at the edge, where right wingers were supposed to be. He supported himself with his stick and stared past the glass of his mask at Jonathan, who took the faceoff against David Backes. He could hear the two chirping from where he waited.

Backes knocked the puck right to Kaner and he kicked off, ice trailing him in flakes. He stick-handled past defender and winger, twisted his ankles to spin off of a Hawk, and shot. His famous spin-o-rama scored him multiple goals but not tonight. The puck slammed into the chest of a patient Brian Elliot who prevented a rebound. The referees blew their whistles and Kaner skated right into the body of Jonathan Toews.

He smirked up at him and wrapped a hand around to pat him on the ass. Jonny tapped his stick against his skate.

“You gotta be careful where you skate, Peeks,” Jonny mumbled. Despite his quiet tone, he could hear him over the rumbling crowd.

“Oops. I wasn’t looking,” He crooned, flashing his “rival” a wink before grunting. TJ Oshie’s chest bumped into his shoulder, pushing him away from Toews.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kaner? First of all, line change, open your damn eyes. Second of all, what’s up with you and Toews?”

Kaner gave him a sharp glare before skating off the ice to the bench. He huffed and puffed like the Big Bad Wolf between linemates Backes and Alexander Steen, who looked at him with heavy concern.

“What’s got your feathers all ruffled, Kaner? Is it Toews?” He inquired, casting a wary glance past Kane’s head to the Hawks’ bench.

“No. For once, it’s not Toews. Osh is just giving me a hard time and it’s pissing me off,” Kaner explained, jerking his shoulder against Steen’s. “But don’t worry about it, Steener. It’ll blow over,” He reassured, his dimples emerging at the corners of his smile.

It didn’t blow over, though, and it happened again. But the next time, it wasn’t just TJ who had noticed the proximity between him and Toews. Everyone on the entire bench noticed it. Kaner had purposefully bumped into Toews again, but from behind, so he could whisper naughty things into his ear, things that made Jonny blush. He brushed his hand against Toews’.

There was mumbling when he got back to the bench. Huddling between Steen and Vladimir Tarasenko, he overheard Steen’s conversation with Paul Stastny next to him.

“He’s unusually close to Toews tonight. Oshie pointed it out and now I can’t stop noticing it. Have you seen it?” Steen questioned.

Kane saw Stastny’s head nod out of the corners of his eyes before he spoke, “Yeah, I see it. Do you think they’re chirping? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t.”

Steener grunted, “Yeah, but, Stazzers, have you seen how close Kaner is getting to him? His dick was right up his ass on that last shift.”

Kaner tuned them out, his heart dropping into his stomach.

On their next shift out, Pat skated immediately to Jonny. He stopped a fair distance away from him but close enough that he could still hold a conversation.

“Jonny, they’re getting suspicious. They’ve noticed us,” He choked out, chewing on his mouthguard while the ref chatted with Backes. He didn’t notice the red light behind the penalty box go on, which meant commercial break.

“I know, Peeks. My boys see it too. We have to take it down a notch,” Jonny responded, avoiding eye contact.

Patrick didn’t say anything as the ref blew his whistle, signaling for the faceoff to start. Take it down a notch? He could do that. _I can do that. I can do that._ As the puck dropped and Jonny won it, Kaner pumped his legs towards him. He positioned his hands on his stick in the correct way and cross-checked Jonny right in the back, against the boards. He had no idea what he was doing.

He heard Jonny scream _what the fuck_ as he fell flat on his face, causing Kaner to slip back to avoid his skates. Jonny scrambled onto his back, stared up at Kaner with fiery rage, and climbed to his feet. He wasted little time and smashed his fist into Kane’s jawline. He fell backwards, out of shock, but not before taking Jonny with him, his hand gathering his jersey and yanking him down.

They wrestled for a few minutes, nothing but breath and fists in faces, until the refs managed to pry them apart. As the refs hauled them to their feet and shoved them to their respected penalty boxes, Kaner could see that same hatred in Jonny’s eyes before the All Star Game. His heart clenched in his chest and he sank into himself on the bench.

Jonny, on the other hand, bristled with rage. He jostled his leg and burned holes into the ice, fighting the urge to look at Kaner. And then he did and everything melted. He wasn’t sure why Kaner had cross-checked him like that but he figured it was for a good reason. He wouldn’t do it just because he felt like it and seeing him as crushed as he looked confirmed it. Jonny had the dying impulse to wrap him in his arms and cradle him to his chest and whisper his forgiveness. He wanted Kaner to look at him but he stared at his feet for the entirety of his combined penalties.

The Blues won in regulation with a score of 4-2. Kaner was last to congratulate Elliot and he trailed behind everyone on the way to the locker room, his chin still stinging from Tazer’s fist. Despite their win, he ignored everyone and kept to himself, unlacing his skates and stripping himself of his pads before anyone else had a chance to talk to him.

But the media pounced on him, cornering him into his stall and back onto his ass, still dressed in his tight undershirt and Blues’ basketball shorts. He stared up at the cameras, microphones, and hands in his face like a deer in the headlights but fought through it all. He expected them to ask about the fight and wasn’t surprised when it was the first question.

“Kane, where did that cross check come from?”

Pat shrugged and carded his hand through his hair, sweat dripping from the ends. “I let my temper get the better of me, simple as that,” He stated.

“At the beginning of the game, the Hawks were up 2-nothing. Do you think it was the fight that put the rest of the team in the right energy?”

Kaner scoffed and shook his head, “Not at all. It wasn’t a good idea and as captain, I shouldn’t be exhibiting that kind of behavior. I don’t want my teammates to follow my example. They didn’t win it because of the fight. They won because they played hard and scored goals.”

Interviewers pushed for more questions and he gave them what they wanted albeit his answers were half-assed. He didn’t care. He wanted to go home and crawl into bed and forget about the fight. That wasn’t the way he wanted to leave things between the two of them but he fucked up and had to deal with the consequences.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the media trickled away and left him to get dressed. He pulled on the suit he arrived in but left the tie crumpled up in his pocket. Although he tried with all his might to avoid everyone, he couldn’t escape TJ. Oshie caught him on the way out to his car, his hand snatching his shoulder and spinning him on his heels to face him.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened tonight?”

“What happened tonight?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Kaner, you know what happened. Your fight with Toews. Not that I expected anything different but it was weird. You were so close with him and then you just fucking cross-checked him. Seriously, what’s up with that? If it had been any earlier, it could have cost us the game.” TJ was angry, Kaner could see it in his eyes, he could hear it in his voice. But he could care fuck all what TJ thought.

“It’s...complicated, Osh. That’s all I can give you.”

Oshie’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. Pat watched the veins in his neck bulge out of irritation and he hated himself. He hated standing in the dark with his best friend and lying to him. He hated the disconnection between them and knowing that it was all his fault. A sigh dribbled from his lips.

“I’m sorry, Osh. I gotta get home. I need to get home,” He hesitated, considering whether or not he should touch him, give him a friendly pat on the arm or maybe a damn hug. But the way TJ stepped back told him not to and he retreated to his car.

 

* * *

 

Jonny slept against the wall beside Pat’s door, his hands lying lazily in his lap and his head lolling onto his shoulder. He had the next day off and decided to fly back to Chicago in the morning rather than with the team. Upon sharing this news, he received many boyish hollers, specifically from Shawzy. _Jonny’s got a girl in St. Louis!_ teased him all the way to Kaner’s apartment.

He jerked awake when he heard the soft echoing of dress shoes on hardwood floors, heaving himself to his feet and wiping the sleep out of his eyes with his knuckles. He watched Kaner turn the corner and his heart leaped into his throat. He played with his fingers.

“Jonny, what are you doing here? Don’t you have a flight back home?” Pat slowed his gait to stop in front of the Hawks captain.

Jonny waved a hand over his opposite shoulder, “I’m catching one tomorrow morning. I have the day off tomorrow and I wanted to sleep with you one more night before I left.”

Patrick’s shoulders sagged and he giggled out of relief. He hung his head and fumbled with his keys, attempting to unlock his door. “I thought you were mad at me, Tazer. I swear I didn’t mean to cross-check you like I did. I got a little carried away and I was nervous because the boys kept talking about me and you and I thought the only way to get their noses off our trail was to start a fight and I saw how angry you were and it scared-”

Jonny cupped Pat’s chin in his hand and lifted it towards his face. He laid a tender kiss upon his lips before smiling against them. “It’s alright, Kaner. When I saw how defeated you looked in the sin bin, I forgave you. You were a little rough, but I like it when you’re rough,” He purred.

Pat grinned and lead Jonny into his apartment after unlocking it. He sat him down in the kitchen and retrieved his small first aid kit he kept in his linen closet. He took up the seat in front of him and brushed his fingers over his split lip. Jonny adorned a few scratches from the ice and his face started forming bruises but he couldn’t do anything about those. He wet a paper towel and dabbed at his split lip, cleaning the blood from it to let it breathe.

Jonny’s hands rest on his knees and he stared at Kaner as he fixed him. When he put down the damp towel, he compressed his forehead against Pat’s. He took the Blues captain’s hands into his own and kissed at his knuckles, knees knocking knees. And then Kaner wiggled forward and burrowed into Jonny’s neck. He hugged him close, hands curling around clumps of his t-shirt.

“Come on, Little Peeks. Let’s go to bed.”

Patrick drove Jonny to the airport against his wishes. He promised he would stay in the car and keep his head down as long as he could drive him instead of some stranger. Besides, he wanted to give him a goodbye kiss at the airport rather than at home. Jonny remained quiet in the car, his knee bouncing, his hand curled tight around Kaner’s.

When Pat parked on the curb, he turned to the Hawk, the car’s engine humming. Their gazes lingered on each other before Pat moved in for a kiss, quick and sharp and full of affection.

Jonny murmured goodbye and climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. It echoed in Kaner’s stomach. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. Jonny didn’t have any luggage, having given it all to Sharpie to take care of, so he was gone faster than Kaner would have preferred. But he got his good bye kiss and that’s all that mattered to him.

He rolled down the window, kept his head down, and called out to Jonny’s retreating form, “Call me when you get home!” Jonny waved a hand over his head to notify he heard him.

 

* * *

 

Pat spent the next week or two as he had before the game. The difference between then and now was the lack of skype sex. The pair held lengthy conversations over webcam almost every night but most of them consisted of back-and-forth talking instead of dirty words. Kaner even gave Jonny a miniature fashion show of the things he bought one day. Sometimes, the two didn’t feel like jerking off on screen. They were more than comfortable with that decision.

But one night, Jonny didn’t text Kaner and tell him he was ready to skype. Pat waited with his computer open and burning the seat of his lap for an hour, maybe two before giving up. Jonny hadn’t mentioned going out but he was probably doing just that. _Whatever._ Pat shrugged to himself.

He opened Twitter in Chrome, using two fingers to scroll through his feed. Pat read through every tweet, favoriting ones that made him smile, retweeting ones he wanted people to see. That’s what you do on Twitter.

Pat wasn’t expecting Jonny to pop up on his feed (he didn’t have a Twitter), though, and he certainly wasn’t expecting the pictures that he saw. He clicked on Shaw’s post and enlarged the pictures of the two Hawks. They were surrounded by girls in a dimly lit club with beers in hand and tongues sticking out. Two blondes hung on the arms of Jonny and his face was smashed against one of theirs.

Kaner felt that damn pang in his heart and he wandered to the kitchen. He retrieved a tumbler and a heavy bottle of Jack Daniel’s he had been saving to drink in the Stanley Cup but fuck the Cup, his heart hurt. He returned to his computer, poured himself a glass, and downed the whole thing in one sitting, gaze never leaving Jonny’s drunken face.

Those pictures were a mistake. Shaw, no matter how reckless he was, would not post something like this for the whole world to see. Was this even Shaw’s account? It could be a fake. The pictures could be photoshopped or of someone else that resembled them. Despite every excuse Kaner tried to come up with, he knew very well that that was real life Jonny’s tongue down the ear of some girl he probably didn’t know the name of. Kaner swallowed another glass.

By the time he called TJ, he was halfway done with the bottle. His eyes drooped and he could barely hold his tongue in his mouth when he talked. His eyes burned the pictures into his brain and he couldn’t stop seeing them, even when he wasn’t looking at them. Oshie picked up on the third ring.

“Kaner? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s going on? Do you need help?” The worry in his voice made Kane giggle.

“No no no no, Osh. I’m peachy fuckin’ keen, alriiiiight,” Kane slurred and hung his head. His elbow slipped off of the coffee table and he banged his forehead against the edge.

“What the fuck was that? Kaner, are you drunk? Where are you? Do you need me to give you a ride home?”

Kaner’s fingers rubbed at his temples, “Home. I am home.”

Oshie sighed on the other end, “Alright. I’m coming over.” He hung up.

It didn’t take Oshie long to get to Kaner’s apartment. He was traipsing in the door just as Kaner put the tumbler to his lips for the eighth time. Before he could get a taste of the alcohol, Oshie yanked it from him, setting the bottle and glass aside, and taking their place in front of him. Kaner tipped forward and TJ grabbed his shoulders, propping him up.

“Kaner, what’s going on?”

When Pat’s lazy gaze focused on TJ’s, the fear and concern broke him. Tears dribbled down his cheeks and he sniffed hard before releasing one loud sob. He scooted towards Oshie and grappled at his body, ensnaring him in a drunken hug. He cried and whimpered obnoxiously into TJ’s shoulder, frame shuddering with each intake of breath.

TJ’s hands caressed his back as he held him. He leaned his head against Pat’s and whispered reassurances that _everything is going to be okay_ and _whatever this is will blow over, Kaner, I promise._ Somewhere deep inside of Pat, the sober part knew that he was making a big deal of something small, knew that this would be gone in the morning. But he was shitfaced and he wanted to cry.

He sniffled and when TJ thought he was calm enough, he settled him back into the couch. He tilted his chin up so that he was at eye-level and spoke again, “Did you get everything out? Are you okay to talk to me about what’s happening?”

Pat sucked in a hard breath and exhaled before responding, “I was goin’ s’rough Twitterrrrr ‘n Annrew Shaw put these picshures upp.” He flashed the screen of his computer to Oshie who took it into his lap. Pat watched as Oshie scrutinized them.

“Alright. What about them? They’re just him and Toews having a good time with some girls. What part of that screams ‘get drunk’ to you?” Oshie glanced up, confusion swimming in his facial features.

Pat’s body shivered as he fought off another sob. He compressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and answered. It was easier to look at anything but TJ when he spoke. “Jonny’s got his fuckin’ tongue down some whore’s s’roat,” He slurred, eyes narrowing.

TJ’s own eyes widened in surprise, “Whoa, Kaner. That’s some colorful word choice you got. Alright, uh, first of all, his tongue is down her ear, not her throat. Second of all, I’m still not understanding why that means open a bottle of Daniel’s. I get you’re drunk but you gotta give me more, preferably all of it at once.”

Kaner stretched his eyes open. Alright. If Osh wanted everything at once, he’d give him everything at once. “We’ve been fucking, Teeejjjj. Jonny ‘n I. Since All S’ar Game, his dick has been in my aaaaasssss,” He giggled and then hiccuped. He kissed the back of his hand with his mouth to keep himself from belching. “‘N i’s reaaallyyyy haaard because he’s so far away ‘n I-” Kaner stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears.

“You miss him?”

Kaner nodded and a strangled sob rattled his bones. He fell back into Oshie who welcomed him with open arms, cuddling him to his chest.

“Holy shit, Kaner. This is big stuff. You and Toews? Is that why you were so close to him during that game?” Pat nodded. “Fuck, Peeks.”

Pat jerked himself away and squeezed at Oshie’s biceps, “You’re not gonna tell anyone, righ’?”

TJ snorted, “What? Of course not. I wouldn’t tell anyone unless you wanted me to. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Kaner relaxed his grip on Oshie’s arms but caught a glimpse of the computer. He sniffed once, twice, and then TJ pulled him back. He closed Chrome and the computer and cradled Kaner close. “Kaner, answer me this; Does he feel the same way about you?”

“What?” He croaked, voice muffled.

“Come on, Kaner. You know what I mean. Would he get shitfaced and cry like this about you?”

Kaner retreated from the safety of Oshie’s arms and stared at his hands. He had never thought about Jonny like that. But every time he got a text or he skyped him or even heard his name, Kaner’s heart would race. His stomach would flip, his cheeks would flush, and his mind would wander. Did Jonny feel all that too? For a long time, Kaner had thought their relationship was just physical. But somewhere along the way it had turned into something more, something deeper.

He parted his lips to respond but the vibrating of his phone cut him off. Oshie grabbed it from the corner of the coffee table and turned it over to reveal Jonny’s contact picture and name.

“It looks like he’s calling you, Kaner. I don’t think you should answer. You’re not cohere-”

Pat snatched the phone from Oshie’s hands and fumbled with the answer button. He pressed it to his ear and waited for Jonny to speak.

“Hey, Little Peeks,” He sounded tired, raspy, as if he had just woken up.

Pat could barely open his mouth before he was in tears. He sucked in hard breaths and hid his eyes with his hands. Oshie bumped his knees against Kane’s and encouraged him to calm down.

“Ah, Kaner, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying like this?” Jonny urged gently.

Pat focused his gaze on TJ, who nodded him on, and managed to form a few sentences, “Shaw pos-posted pic-pictures of y-you at a club with s-some girls. I-I-I drank half a b-bottle of D-Daniel’s.”

Jonny groaned, “Oh, Kaner. Those pictures don’t mean anything, alright? They were just some girls. I had been drinking, Shawzy pressured me to do it. Those girls wouldn't back off. They don’t mean anything, I promise.”

Another sob rattled Pat’s body and he keeled forward, struggling to catch his breath to calm down. He rubbed the palm of his hand against the crest of his hair, fingers shaking. He didn’t say anything. He feared he would start crying again.

“I swear, Peeks. I wouldn’t do that to you. Do you really think I would?”

Pat shrugged, “I’unno.”

“God, Pat, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to someone I love.”

Kaner froze and his eyes widened and his heart flipped into his throat. The corners of his smile hooked into his dimples and he stared at Oshie, who looked extremely confused. Pat shook still, but more from excitement and giddiness than from his sobs.

“Y-you love me?” He whispered, touching his fingertips to his face to feel the heat.

Jonny paused. “Well, yeah, I guess I do,” He murmured. Kaner could hear his grin in his voice. “I love you, Little Peeks,” He repeated, strong confidence lacing his words.

Pat giggled and splayed his hand out against his knee, “I love you, too, Twinkle Toes.”

There was another long pause between the two before Oshie cleared his throat. Jonny overheard it, “Do you have someone over?”

Pat nodded but remembered he couldn’t see it. He coughed, “Yeah. TJ.” He didn’t feel so drunk anymore.

“Alright. I’ll let you go then. I have to get to bed anyways. Game day tomorrow. I shouldn’t have even gone out in the first place,” Jonny chuckled.

“Okay. Good night, Jonny.”

“Good night, Pat.”

Pat hung up and Oshie ushered him into a shower, cold and awakening. When he was done, he dished everything out to TJ, explained to him everything that happened between tonight and the All Star Game. He left the specifics out, though. He didn’t want to scar TJ.

TJ left his apartment when Kaner started to fall asleep. He tucked him into bed and bade him goodnight.

Kaner bundled the comforter closer to his chest and peered out the window. He watched the city lights twinkle below him and smiled to himself. Jonny loved him and he loved Jonny and his bed didn’t feel so empty anymore.

That was how TJ found out. Sharpie discovered their relationship in a much less emotional way.

It was the day after Kaner’s meltdown and it was game day. The Hawks played the Avalanche at the Pepsi Center. All throughout the game, Toews thought about their call and how much everything made sense. Before he told Pat he loved him, he didn’t have a clue what he was feeling and now he was beyond confident. Every step he took felt as if he were floating.

When he sauntered onto the Pepsi Center’s ice, he expected the Hawks to take a road win. Although they battled with the Avs for division leader and came out on top most of the time, he underestimated their skills on the ice. He mosied in arrogant and big-headed and walked out defeated. It wasn’t by much, a 3-2 loss but at this point in the standings, with playoffs creeping up, they needed all the points they could get.

Jonny lingered in the hallway after the game, having escaped the media attention for a few moments to call Kaner. He leaned against the wall with one hand to support him, head hanging forward. When he spoke, he did it quietly.

“I’m sorry you lost, baby,” Kaner murmured.

Jonny shrugged, sighed, and twisted around to rest his back against the wall. He tilted his head back, threading his fingers through his damp hair. “We were so close, Peeks. We just couldn’t pull through. The boys played hard tonight but the Avs finally got their defensive shit together,” He grunted.

“It looked like it. You’ll get ‘em next time.”

Sharpie meandered down the hall with his hands in his pockets, searching for Jonny. Coach Q was at his wits end with the press pestering him for Tazer and ordered Sharpie to seek him out. He skidded to an abrupt halt when he overheard Jonny on the phone, pulling back to hide behind the corner. He knew eavesdropping was wrong but he couldn’t help it. Everyone on the team knew Jonny had someone back in St. Louis after their last game against the Blues but he never talked about them.

“I tried to score for you,” Jonny mumbled, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re too sweet, Twinkle Toes.”

Jonny grinned before casting a glance at the clock on the wall across from him, “Oh, shit, Kaner. I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry. I forget about time difference.”

“No, that’s okay. I’d stay awake all night for you,” Kaner replied sleepily.

Toews blushed deep, “Good night. I love you, Little Peeks.”

“I love you, Jonny.”

Toews terminated the call and pushed off of the wall. He wandered down the hall and turned the corner but stumbled when he bumped into the waiting shoulder of Patrick Sharp. His teammate stared in bewilderment at him and it took several moments before Jonny realized why.

“Did you just hear all of that, Sharpie?” He croaked.

“Kaner, Peeks. Was that Patrick Kane on the phone? Did you just tell Patrick Kane you loved him?” Sharpie interrogated, stepping back from his captain, gaping at him.

Jonny hesitated, questioning whether or not he should tell the truth. But if TJ Oshie knew, then it was okay for Sharpie to know. Besides, Jonny was at that point where he didn’t mind if people knew. Well, the people closest to him. He sighed, “Yes, Sharpie. I just told Patrick Kane I loved him.”

“Wha-wh-what? Why? How? _When?_ ”

Jonny pulled Sharpie closer to him and bowed his head so that he could whisper, “Sharpie, if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Patrick Sharp paused then nodded slow, brow furrowing and stunning blue eyes narrowing.

“Pat stumbled into my room the night of the All Star Game. That’s when it first started. We’ve been talking ever since and he’s the one I went and saw those nights in St. Louis. Sharpie, you can’t tell anyone. We’re not ready for everyone to know. Only Oshie knows and that’s because Kaner called him in a drunken sob last night,” Jonny looked to Sharp but when his teammate said nothing, he continued, “Please, Sharpie. I love him with every part of my being and he loves me back and if you tell people, all of that could be ruined. The media would have a field day.”

Patrick rocked from foot to foot and played with his fingers in his pockets. He sighed and nodded again. “Alright, I won’t tell. I’m just shell-shocked. I can’t believe you and Kane... Whatever happened to beating the shit out of him?” He teased.

Jonny laughed, cocking his head back, and shook out his arms, “I don’t know. I really don’t fucking know.”

Patrick smiled tenderly and corralled Jonny into his body with an arm around his shoulder. “I’m just happy you found someone, Tazer. You deserve that kind of happiness,” He purred.

As they wandered back to the locker room to join their teammates, Sharp cackled, “Can you imagine what Shawzy would say if he found out?”

“Something dumb. That mutt can’t even tie down his own hand, let alone a girl.”

 

* * *

 

Post-season was tough. The Avalanche came out on top and clinched division championship before the Hawks or Blues could even catch up. Minnesota Wild claimed the top wild card spot, meaning they played Avs in the first round. This also meant the Blues and Hawks played each other. Tension was high between the two teams but it was higher between Jonny and Patrick.

Playoffs gave the pair more time together seeing as how they played in the same states for a number of days but it wasn’t enjoyable. They tried to leave their disputes on the ice, settle it on skates, but one of them would take it home. Arguments broke out everywhere and any time they could.

But things would simmer down and they would end up in bed together, arms wrapped tightly around tense bodies. Little spoon and big spoon. Kaner found comfort knowing that, no matter the circumstances and the extent of their fighting, they would always find a way back to each other.

Oshie and Sharpie checked up on them often, making sure everything was okay and wasn’t falling apart. Breaking things off just because of the playoffs sounded preposterous but not far from something the two would do. Every now and then, they would coincide plans and take Kaner and Jonny out, give them a much needed break from each other.

The Blues took the Hawks to Game 7 but the Hawks shut them out, three to nothing. Kaner left for home immediately and, despite the strong urge to celebrate, Jonny followed after. He turned down several offers for drinks with suspicious looks but Sharpie swooped in and saved him an excuse, distracting the team with a confident “I’ll buy!”.

Jonny’s fingers fumbled with the door mat of Kaner’s apartment, removing the key from underneath it and unlocking the door. He sidled into the darkness and slithered towards the kitchen, where light filtered out. He found Pat leaning against the island with a beer in his hand and the fridge wide open.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” He snarled, grip tightening around the beer.

Jonny expected nothing less of Kaner and hobbled towards him, a gentle hand finding its way on the small of his back. Pat rolled his shoulders and jerked away, closing the fridge to shut out the light.

“Peeks, don’t be like this. I came here to spend tonight with you. I want to spend it with you, not the boys,” Jonny pestered, shuffling closer.

Pat scoffed, raising his shoulders like hackles on a hissing cat. Jonny reached forward and closed his fingers around Pat’s wrist. He tugged and Pat pivoted his body. Although they stood in darkness, Jonny could see the glint of fresh tears beading on the edge of Pat’s cheeks. He lifted his free hand up and caressed his thumb across the bones, wiping the Blue’s skin free of them.

“We can never make it past the first round. I don’t know why but we never do,” Patrick’s voice cracked when he spoke. He cleared it.

Jonny reeled Pat into his arms and wrapped him up, holding his head to his upper chest and spreading his hands across his back. He didn’t say anything but let him cry into his shoulder. Game 7’s were tough, always harder to lose than any other hockey game. Jonny had been there multiple times and blamed himself for every single mistake. As captain, he bore the weight of the entire team and felt heavier with responsibility than any other player.

Jonny glanced down to find Pat staring back at him, his blue eyes sharp in the dark of the kitchen. Mouth found mouth and Pat’s hands cupped Jonny’s neck, thumbs compressing themselves against the underside of his jaw. Toews’ palms rested on the crooks of Kane’s hips before one slid to the curve of his ass, squeezing, fingertips kneading, tenderly.

Pat broke for air and Jonny’s lips sought the surface of his neck, tongue dragging down his skin to the top of his collarbone and back up to his mandible. As Kaner tangled his grip behind Jonny’s head, Jonny sucked on his throat, leaving the beginnings of a hickie, teeth nipping lightly.

Kaner stuck a leg between Jonny’s and rolled his hips into his thigh, the hardening bulge in his pants pushing between the two. He breathed heavy, tilting his head back to give Jonny’s mouth more space to play with.

Jonny said nothing and grappled at the hem of Kane’s shirt, lips retreating to yank his shirt over his head. His hands held Pat’s ribs while he kissed him down to his happy trail. He lingered on his V-Lines, tongue fondling his flesh and bone. All the while, his fingers feverishly unbuttoned the other captain’s pants.

Jon’s mouth never left Kane’s stomach even as he spoke, “Undress me too, you lazy fuck.”

Kaner chuckled and stripped the Hawk free of his shirt before setting to work on the buttons of his pants. He finished the same time as Jonny did and they shimmied out of their pants and underwear while giggles filled the air. When they stood together, naked and in the darkness, their hands on each other’s chest, they joined foreheads.

“I love you, Peeks,” Jonny purred with a grin.

“Stop with the sap and blow me,” Pat grunted, hand cupping the back of his head and urging him to his knees. Jonny obliged, dropping down so that he was eye-level with Kane’s cock. He brushed an open palm over it so he knew where he was petting his mouth before taking it into his hand.

Jonny formed an O around the tip with his lips, allowing him to tongue his slit and jerk his shaft with his hand. Slowly, he engulfed his length with his entire mouth, pulling all of Kaner until his head tickled the back of his throat.

He held him, nose brushing at his happy trail, before bobbing his head back and forth. His tongue slid along underneath with every pump. His thumb rubbed circles on the insides of his thighs.

“Jonny, fuck me so hard that I forget about I tonight,” Kaner moaned from above, fingernails digging into the back of Jonny’s neck.

Toews’ released Kane’s cock with an unattractive slurp and reached for the pocket of his pants, fishing for a condom. He always carried one, whether a friend needed it or he did. He tore it open and, as he unrolled it down his cock, ordered Kaner onto the counter. He dribbled a glob of spit on his fingers and probed at Kaner’s hole with it, mock-lubing him up. Jonny knew the consequences but he was way too impatient to go get the lube in Kaner’s bedroom.

He rocked up onto the tips of toes so that the head of his cock teased at Pat’s asshole, his hands falling on either side of his thighs. His forehead met Kane’s and he pushed himself inside his ass, slow and steady. Kane’s soft moans of pleasure reassured Jonny he was doing something right.

He pressed his pelvis into the backs of Kaner’s thighs and paused, allowing himself to get used to the tightness around his shaft. And then he thrust, the bones of his hips knocking against Pat’s legs. His lips joined the Blue’s and his tongue slipped past his teeth, down his throat. Kaner whined into him.

Pat’s fingernails hooked into Jon’s shoulders and, with every thrust, he grappled at his back. He hung his head back and Jon’s kiss fell upon the hollow of his throat.

Every time Jonny and Kaner fucked, something felt different. Whether it was the amount of passion or the setting they were in, something was different. Tonight, Jonny wanted to soak everything in, marinate in the emotions that cracked between the two. He ground his hips slow into Kane.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Kane’s musk, hands curled around the edge of the island. Jonny adored the fact that Kaner was in tears minutes ago and was now begging for his cock. It told him how much he helped ease the pain and he loved it. He ate every piece of it up as if it were his last meal on death row. He loved taking care of Pat and if he could do it every day, he would.

But they played on separate teams, lived in different states. Even if they played together, things would be just as complicated. The longer Jonny thought about this, the harder he fucked Pat, the more his heart ached.

While Jonny mulled over the complications of their relationship, Kaner pondered how much he loved him. Kaner could feel the affection for Jonny in every part of him, oozing out the tips of fingers and slipping out his mouth with his breath. He only wished he could love him more than once every few months. Life without Jonny was painful and empty and he hated it with every fiber of his being.

Pat’s moans increased in volume with every thrust Jonny pounded into him. He reached down for his cock and held it tight, feeling heat puddle at the pit of his stomach and the tip of his cock. He bucked his hips into Jonny. “Tazer, I’m gonna come,” He breathed.

“I’m almost there. Hold it a little longer, Peeks. For me.”

He whimpered but held it back, waiting for Tazer’s approval, confirmation. What felt like minutes but was only seconds ticked by and Kaner was begging to come. He needed a head nod, a fucking grunt, anything to tell him he could come.

But then he felt Jonny’s thrusts slow down, becoming harder, and then he felt his cock pulse inside of him. Kaner let go and his come slathered itself across his abdomen. He relaxed, falling backwards onto his elbows.

Jonny pulled out and left Kaner where he was to throw the condom in the trash. Kaner, in the meantime, gathered their clothes from the floor and carried them to the bedroom. Despite losing Game 7, Pat felt higher than ever. It was short but the best sex he and Jonny have ever had.

He crawled under the covers and waited for Jonny, who came padding in from the hall. He slid into bed beside him, cuddling him into his chest and folding his body to fit his. His nose buried itself in the back of his head, breathing in the aroma of his golden curls.

“You’re the Stanley Cup Champion in my heart, Peeks. I love you,” He crooned.

Kaner’s heart swelled and he wiggled back against him, “Bring me home a cup, Twinkle Toes. I love you.”

* * *

 

Jonny and Pat sat shoulder to shoulder on the bench in Denver, Colorado, the crowd that filled the Pepsi Center cheering wildly around them. Matt Duchene scored moments ago, adding to the fourteen, now fifteen goals Team Landeskog possessed.

It had been an entire year since Kane first stumbled into Toews’ room and they were lucky enough to celebrate it on the same team. But it was coming to a quick close, seeing as how the third period of the 2016 All Star game was mere seconds from final buzzer.

Last postseason, the Blackhawks had fought tooth and claw against the Avalanche to move onto the Western Conference Finals but fell short in Game 7 by one mistake of a goal. The puck bounced right off of Jonny’s stick into the back of the Hawks’ net. Tyson Barrie had been credited with the goal but Jonny knew it was all his fault.

The Avalanche took the Canadiens all the way to a Stanley Cup Final Game 7 but came out on top as 2015’s Champion. Jonny and Kaner watched from Jonny’s television in Chicago as Landeskog hoisted the Cup into the air above his head, screaming victory to the Pepsi Center’s ceiling.

Over the summer, Jonny and Pat spent most of it coming out to their family members and closest friends, which meant their teammates. Shaking in their boots, they would hold hands in front of moms and dads and sisters and teammates and coaches. They would tell them that they loved each other and that anything they did couldn’t stop them from being together. If that meant quitting hockey, well, they would figure something out.

Everyone they told took it well. Coaches were a little iffy at first but willingly accepted their relationship as something they couldn’t change. _As long as it doesn’t affect your game, everything will be fine._ They reassured that it wouldn’t affect their game at all.

And now, it was halfway through the 15-16 season. Jonathan Toews and Patrick Kane rested humbly on the bench in the All Star Game, waiting for the period’s end. Their hands were placed on each other’s knees but no one noticed due to the bulk of their gloves.

The buzzer called for the period’s end and all of Team Landeskog leaped from their posts to congratulate Carey Price on a job well done. Smiles shared and laughter passed among friends, they awarded the MVP of the game his prize before filing back into their respective locker rooms, bumping fists with fans on the way down the tunnels.

Toews and Kane freed their bodies of their gear, lockers sitting next to one another, and cast coy glances between themselves. Kaner’s stomach tingled with butterflies and watching a sweaty Jonathan Toews got him too hard, too fast. He jerked his head when Jonny caught his eye, offering to lead him to the showers. He knew it was risky but, damn, he couldn’t wait until they left the Pepsi Center. Toews grunted his approval and allowed Kaner to leave first, following shortly after.

They didn’t make it all the way into a shower stall before their hands were all over each other, tugging at clothing and pulling at hair. Their mouths kissed hungrily at each other’s skin.

Jonny pushed Pat against the back of the shower and wiggled his hips free of his undergarments, pulling his cock free to breathe. Kaner’s fingertips grazed at the head and Jonny shuddered, his breath slipping down Kaner’s throat.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Jonny jerked away from Kaner to find Tyler Seguin, facial expression adorned with a shit-eating grin and raised eyebrows, eyelids drooped halfway down his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and cocked a hip out, tapping his toes and waiting for an explanation to what he stumbled upon.

“Ty, what are you-” Kaner started as Jonny scrambled to pull his pants back up.

Tyler snorted and choked and started cackling but Kaner rushed forward to cover his mouth with his hand. “Tyler, shut the fuck up,” Pat growled.

Tyler shoved his hand away and sucked in a deep breath to gather his composure. He sighed and leaned back to scrutinize the two disheveled hockey players. “Is anyone gonna give me an explanation? Or am I just gonna stand here with my cock in my hand?” He taunted.

“Tyler, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Jamie. You can’t tell anyone, please. Promise me,” Pat pressured, clasping his hands together to beg.

Tyler scoured him up and down and scoffed. “I can’t tell anyone anything if I have no idea what to tell them,” Kaner’s eyes widened and pleaded with him, “Fuck, Kaner. I’m not gonna tell anyone. Now just explain everything to me, please.”

And Pat did just that with a somber and blushing Jonathan Toews standing beside him, arms pressed tight to his ribs. Tyler listened without speaking, only nodding and mumbling a _yeah_ every now and then. When Pat finished, Tyler carded a hand through his damp auburn curls.

“Man, I was right about all that sexual tension between you two. I told Jamie all the time. ‘One of these days, Kaner and Tazer are gonna fuck on the ice because they can’t handle it anymore,’” Tyler quoted, shaking a pointer finger into Kane’s face. “Jamie didn’t belive me. Boy, what I would give to see the look on his fa-”

“But you can’t. Not yet, Tyler. You have to keep it a secret until we’re ready to tell everyone, alright? Including Jamie,” Jonathan spoke up, his tone small but stern.

Tyler held up his hands in mock surrender and backed away, mouth agape and offended, “I would never!”

“Tyler,” Jonathan and Pat gave him doubtful expressions.

“Alright, alright. Sheesh. I won’t tell anyone, especially Jamie. I’ll keep my trap shut for you two bitches in heat,” Tyler taunted, hurling the towel wrapped around his neck at Patrick. “Save it ‘til you get back to the hotel, horndogs,” He grunted before pivoting on his feet and sauntering back into the locker room.

Jonathan and Patrick looked to each other, nervous smiles playing on their faces.

“Narrowly escaped that one, right, Peeks?” Jonathan stretched a hand forward and pressed his lips to the back of Kane’s hand.

Patrick blushed and leaned into Toews, kissing the top of his head. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate with the boys. Tyler put me out of my dick sucking mood,” He joked, throwing an arm around Toews’ shoulders.

They walked back to the locker room with their hips bumping until stopping just before the door. They pried themselves apart and entered one after the other.

 

* * *

 

Second post-season together. Out at a bar to celebrate amazing secret-keeping skills. Drink after drink after drink after drink. Cheeks flushed, eyes lazy, fingers wandering.

Patrick led Jon out of the bar deep in the heart of St. Louis, through the maze of cars in the parking lot, to his own car. It wasn’t late, maybe ten or eleven at night, and the street lamps lit their stumbling paths.

Patrick tripped over his own feet and fell onto the hood, luckily, of his car, a fit of giggles spilling from his jaws into the night air. Jonny echoed with his own cackling laughter, his body pressing into the back of Kane’s.

He curled his fingers around Kane’s hand and laid on top of him, their laughter the only thing they could really hear. Jonny closed his eyes and almost passed out before Pat wiggled his ass against his crotch. He stood up straight and pulled Kaner with him.

Patrick twisted around so that he could face Jonny, laying his hands against his chest and tilting his head up to lock gazes. A drunken grin laced his lips and he brushed a forefinger against the surface of Jonny’s burning cheeks.

He planted miniature kisses along his cheekbones then down his jawline until reaching his chin. He drew his mouth up past his lips to the tip of his nose where he lingered for a few moments. Tazer’s own mouth fell open in a slight smile, his breath billowing across Kaner’s chin.

And then Pat kissed him. It was sloppy and wet and dunk and they could taste the alcohol on each others’ breaths but it made Toews feel as light as a feather. Every kiss made him feel that way. God, he loved Kaner so fucking much.

They leaned against Patrick’s car and made out a little underneath the city’s lights before driving back to Pat’s apartment to sleep off their drinks.

 

Morning wasn’t happy. Morning was scary. Morning was quiet and an unsettling tension crackled in the air of Patrick’s marbled kitchen. Jonny sat at the island, hands wrapped protectively around a cup of coffee he had been nursing since dawn.

The shuffling of bare feet echoed from down the hall before Patrick waddled into view. His golden curls out of place and his drooping eyes heavy with sleep, he dipped a finger into Jonny’s coffee. “Twinkle, your coffee’s cold,” He mumbled, concern lacing his voice. “How long have you been up?” He spread a hand across his partner’s tense shoulders, hips leaning into hips.

Patrick turned to the fridge and yanked it open, retrieving a carton of eggs and a gallon jug of milk. He set them on the counter, pulled out a pan from an cupboard underneath, and was just about to start cooking eggs when he realized Jon hadn’t responded to him.

He pivoted on his heels and rest his weight against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “Jonny, what’s wrong? Why are you so quiet? Is it the hangover?”

Jonny slid his phone towards Kaner,across the island, without a word. He picked up the device and focused his eyes on several pictures of him and Jonny. His heart plummeted and he swore on his life he could feel it land in his stomach. The pictures wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t of him and Jonny locking lips against Kaner’s car. Jonny’s weight settled itself on Pat as they shared breath underneath a lamp post. This was last night.

A million questions burned inside of Pat’s head. He didn’t remember any flashes or any paparazzi nearby but that was the point of the paps. How long did they wait for him and Jonny? When were these posted? What was going to happen to their relationship? How were people reacting? What the fuck is going on?

“My phone is blowing up, Pat. I had to turn it on airplane mode. Too many tweets, texts, calls. I don’t know what to do,” Jonny’s voice shook and Kaner could see the fear in his eyes. The media was eating this story up and their appetites weren’t satisfied. They wanted interviews, confirmation, denial, anything to tie them over until the big scoop.

Pat set down Jonny’s phone and engulfed him in a tight hug, his nose buried against his neck. He could smell early morning and the detergent from his sheets on his skin. “It’s okay, Jon. We’ll figure it out together.”

 

 


End file.
